


Love While We're Here

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the action gets hot, et la vie en rose.<br/>Sequel to Time Passes By.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love While We're Here

## Love While We're Here

by Jantique

Pet Fly having abandoned them, Jim and Blair, like Lincoln, now belong to the ages.   


I write slash--finally! If you're not legally of age, don't read this. If you're my mother, you really don't want to read this.   


Ay-yi-yi-y-y! I confused so many people! *Mea culpa!* This is Part 1 of the "Love While We're Here" series. It COMES AFTER the Prologue, "Time Passes By", which leads directly into this. There will be more, but that's all so far.   
Pre-TS by BS.   


This story is a sequel to: Time Passes By 

* * *

**LOVE WHILE WE'RE HERE**  
by Jantique 
    
    
            Thoughts are like pennies we keep in our pockets,
            They're never worth nothing 'til we give them away.
            Love's like a promise in an unopened letter
            Where nights full of pleasure seldom see the light of day
            When life gets in the way.
    
    
    
            Time passes by, people pass on, 
            At the drop of a tear, they're gone.
            Let's do what we dare, do what we like,
            And love while we're here, before time passes by.
    

Blair dozed on the couch, his shoes and socks off, toes snuggled into the rose petals that covered it--a few red, but primarily pink and white. He held a small, handwritten note clutched in his hand, a few white petals drifting down off the top of the couch, coming to rest on his chestnut curls. 

When he woke, the note was gone, and a legal-sized pad of ruled yellow paper rested in his hands. He hadn't heard a thing--but Special Forces Captain James Ellison could move very quietly when he wanted to. 

Sandburg shook himself awake, blinked, and read the pad. The message said, 

Blair, 

Sorry, Simon called me down to the station. I'm back now. Hell, I don't even know how you feel about this. But if you're interested, take a nap or go out, whatever, but don't come up to my room for half an hour. I need time to get ready. It's 7:35 now. If you don't, I'll understand. It's your call. 

Jim 

Blair read it three times to make sure he understood, then checked his watch. It was 7:50. He was curious, but no way was he going to spoil this. He thought he'd better go out and get some fresh air--besides, that would keep him from peeking. He went downstairs and leaned against the building, but he was too antsy to stand still. He walked from one corner of the block to the other, resolutely resisting checking the time more than every two minutes, more or less. (Okay, less.) It _sounded_ like a fantasy. A _sexual_ fantasy. Not that he thought Jim didn't have them, or anything, he'd just never dared to believe that Jim might have them about _him_. He'd _imagined_ it, sure, but jerk-off fantasies and Reality were two very different things, and he didn't confuse the two. Until, maybe, tonight. 

At 8:04 (it would take at least a minute to get upstairs), Blair turned and re-entered the building, ready for anything, counting on nothing. Up to the third floor, open the door, slip inside. Carefully hanging up his jacket, Blair went up the stairs to the loft. To Jim's bedroom. To Jim. He had an odd sensation to tiptoe, it was so quiet, but of course Jim knew he was there. Up to the top of the stairs--then he gasped, grabbing the rail for balance, and stood and stared. 

Candles were lit around the room. The bed was strewn with pink and yellow rose petals, as before. Most of the area was covered by one very naked Jim Ellison, spread out across the middle of the bed, lying on his stomach, and likewise festooned with rose petals. Specifically on his neck, down his spine, caught between his buttocks, and, yes--Blair stopped breathing--fluttering out of his anus. 

Autonomic reflex took over, and Blair breathed again. He was going to thank every deity he'd ever heard of--later. _Much_ later. But--as perfect an embodiment of all his fantasies as this was--if he wasn't dreaming, they needed to talk. Hmm, Jim would _not_ like that. Okay, compromise. Just the really, _really_ important stuff. He could prioritize. He started unbuttoning his shirt. 

He cleared his throat. "J-Jim? This is perfect; you are _so_ beautiful, man. And I'm not gonna talk, I promise." 

A low voice from the bed growled, "Good." 

Blair swallowed hard, and worked faster on his clothing. "I just have to ask, you're clean, right? I mean, you've been tested?" 

"Yeah, Chief, I'm clean. Are you?" 

"Oh, yeah, man! How can you say that? What, you think I eat health food and then go have stupid sex?" He was indignant. 

Jim didn't reply. But his shoulder blades rippled, and a few petals spun into the air before settling down. Blair yanked his jeans and shorts off. He reached out his hand, then stopped himself. 

"Just . . . just one more thing. You know, you don't have to do this just 'cause you think I want it. I mean, I do, you're a living fantasy, I'd be crazy not to want you, but . . . you don't have to give me a pity fuck or even a thank you fuck because you're _grateful_ , okay? I mean--" 

Jim turned his head toward Blair, ice-blue eyes drilling into his. "Sandburg," it was definitely a low animalistic growl, "if you don't get your ass over here and fuck me into next Tuesday _right now_ , I won't be responsible for the consequences." More calmly, with a hint of a smile, "And you can talk in the morning, all you want. If you have the energy." 

Blair nodded, not daring to speak again. Then he stretched out his hand again, and carefully but firmly drew one finger from Jim's neck down his spine, to the top of his ass. Jim sighed. Blair straddled him, resting on his knees, and traced the line with his tongue, starting with his partner's ear, slipping inside the whorl, around and down to the back of his neck. He placed Jim's arms at his sides, palms upward. Slowly, slowly, he licked his way down the spine, rubbing his own furry chest against Jim's smooth skin, his hands massaging that smooth, firm back on either side. Blair suddenly felt that the subject of his dissertation was the geography of Jim Ellison, and he needed to memorize the contours of the smooth, muscular, perfect body beneath his hands. He moved his hands around to Jim's chest, fingertips circling his nipples then rubbing them gently with the center of his palms. It was incredibly erotic. He moved down to Jim's navel, again circling the edge. 

He stopped to kiss the inside of Jim's left elbow. When he reached his wrist, he kissed the throbbing pulse and licked the palm, giving one gentle stroke of the tongue to each fingertip. Then he continued his descent, down to the beautiful, perfect ass and into the crack, pushing aside rose petals as he went. Jim not only tasted as luscious as he'd imagined, he smelled wonderful, too--a little rose, some musk, and all Jim. 

Blair plucked out the rose petals with his teeth. The red ones were definitely more fragrant. He pushed himself back and admired the perfect pink hole, breathing warm air on it. Jim groaned and stretched himself. But his Guide pulled back--it was too much, too soon, and he wanted to make this last. There was so _much_ of Jim Ellison, and he wanted to taste it all. 

He licked his way down Jim's left thigh, his hands stroking and kneading everything in sight, down to the back of his knee. He carefully tongued it, getting it good and wet, then gave a gentle nip and pressed flower petals to the spot. Jim encouraged him with moans and reassuring sounds along the way, noises that might mean "Yesss" and "More!", but definitely were not "No, stop!" He must be doing something right. 

He slithered his way down to Jim's left foot, spreading saliva and petals as he went. Around the ankle, down the side, avoiding the instep, which could tickle, finally reaching the toes. He treated these with the respect they deserved, conscientiously laving and sucking each one, working his way from the pinky to the big toe, and carefully inserting petals into each crevice. 

When he sucked on the big toe, attentively running his tongue around it as though it were a tiny cock, Jim could stand it no longer. "Come _on_ , Sandburg, get up here and get serious!" 

His partner immediately stopped what he was doing, and pulled himself up above Ellison's back. He spoke quietly but firmly. 

"No, Jim. In the first place, don't call me "Sandburg" in bed _ever_. In the second place, you should remember the magic words, "Abracadabra, please and thank you". If you want me to stop, just say "Stop". 

Jim whispered, "Chief, no, don't stop. Please. And thank you. But--you're driving me crazy!" 

Blair smiled. "Jim, I'm your _Guide_. I'll take care of you. Don't I always?" Then he slithered back down the Sentinel's body, until he reached his right foot, and repeated his journey down in reverse. 

Jim sighed and relaxed, and gave up his control. The Sentinel didn't have to be responsible--his Guide would take care of him. Blair deliberately worked his way up the right side, sucking each toe, caressing the ankle, going back because he'd forgotten to press the rose petals between the toes, up the leg to the back of the knee--trembling ever so slightly now, with just a drop of sweat. Blair conscientiously licked it clean, savoring taste and texture of the sensitive skin, moving up toward the only rose he cared about, Jim's perfect, pink bud. He tongued Jim's hole, trying to taste/smell/sense all of him. It tasted as good as it looked, and the sudden raw hunger in Blair nearly overwhelmed him. He nipped Jim's inner thigh, and tongued long strokes to the fleshy part of his ass, then butterflied kisses into the crease between the cheeks. 

Of course, while all this was going on, and his mouth was thus occupied, the student's brain was still going a million miles a minute. //Why isn't Jim zoning out on the smell? Of course, the roses' scent isn't very strong--maybe only some of them are perfumed, and the rest are unscented. Yeah, that makes sense. . . . Do Sentinels and Guides traditionally bond sexually? I wonder if Burton knew, not that he'd tell if he did. Although he did translate the "Kama Sutra". . . . Jim's skin is so smooth, so fine-textured. Does he really want this? He never said. Although he looks like he's done this before. . . . He looks gorgeous, is what he looks. And tastes delicious. I think _I'm_ going to zone here. . . . If there's someone important in his past, I have to know--well, no, I don't, but it would be good if he could tell me. We _have_ to talk in the morning. What about our relationship? Is this a one-night stand or a commitment forever? Is this going to change how we work together? Simon's gonna swallow his cigar! . . . Jim clearly needs for me to be in control. I'm his Guide, okay, I can give him what he needs-- _OHMYG-D!_ // 

At that moment, his tongue licked around, then finally penetrated, the Sentinel's anus, dislodging soft, fragrant, deep red petals that tasted of _Jim_ , and the famous Sandburg Brain officially Shut Up. 

Jim groaned. "Oh, Chief, please, more. I'll do. . . anything you want, but . . . please, no torture." 

Blair had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Okay, maybe he was being a _little bit_ cruel. How did the song go? "Cruel to be kind--in the right places." Of course, if he didn't fuck Jim Ellison pronto, _he_ was going to die. He lifted his head and looked over at the night table. There was a tube of _something_ there, next to one of the flickering candles. He thought, 'That better be lube, not Super-Glue,' lunged forward and grabbed it. 

He coated one finger with the lube. Hmm, nasty commercial stuff. He could get something natural, that would feel better to Jim's sensitive skin. Next time. 'Next time'--what a concept! He'd never thought _this_ time could happen. He eased the finger into Jim's anus. It slid in easily. He wiggled it around a little. Oh, yeah, Jim was _ready_! He must have prepared himself, while Blair was outside holding up the building. Another finger quickly followed, then another. Jim was moaning and twisting and trying to hump the bed. 

"Uh-uh, baby." Blair lay a firm hand on the small of his lover's back. "I told you I'd take care of you." Jim groaned, but immediately lay still. Blair coated his cock and pushed Jim's knees forward. He paused and looked admiringly at his beautiful lover, savoring one perfect moment in time, and the gift his lover was giving him. Then he drove forward and in one passionate stroke nailed Jim to the mattress. 

Jim gasped, "Blair!" For his part, the Guide couldn't speak, couldn't even think. With his last remaining dregs of rationality, he reached around for Jim's cock. It felt like silk, like satin. He was pretty sure it could drill holes in diamonds. His hand was slick, and he pumped Jim as he drove into him, establishing a rhythm. Jim lay with his head on the pillow, arms by his sides. But he was anything but passive. He shoved back, driving Blair's cock deeper into his own body, pushing forward again, driving his cock into his lover's hand. His fingers had a death grip on the sheets. He kept up a steady murmur of "Yes, yes, Chief, please, yes." Blair grabbed Jim's ass, pulling it to him, pulled almost all the way out and launched forward again. Jim's eyes widened, he screamed, "Blair!", and came, shuddering, vibrations running through him like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With that, Blair exploded, barely able to whisper "Jim" as he collapsed on his lover's back. 

Moments, aeons, later, he recovered enough consciousness to roll off Jim, onto his own back. They lay sprawled next to each other. Then they looked at each other blearily, and moved together, lips barely touching. Blair breathed, "Wow!" Jim smiled and said, "Our first kiss." It felt good. They went for the second, lips parting, tongues introducing, exploring, passionate yet gentle. It felt better. They parted, gasping for air. 

Jim was just moving in try it again when Blair suddenly flopped back onto the bed muttering, "Oh, man! This really sucks!" 

"Chief? What's wrong?" The Sentinel sat up and instinctively scanned the area for danger. 

Blair reached out a hand and pulled him down. "No, no, it's okay, I mean--" 

"Well, what?" 

"--I mean, if you're not straight--" 

"Who said I was straight?", Jim countered with a wicked grin. 

"Well, if you're gay, or even bi.. . ." He was clearly perturbed. Jim waited for the blow to fall. 

"Jim, do you realize I'm gonna have to rewrite my _entire dissertation_?!!" 

Silence reigned. Jim considered his options, and decided that yes, if he smothered his true love with a pillow right now, he _could_ get away with a defense of justifiable homicide. On the other hand. . . . So he growled instead, and proceeded to kiss the breath--and all wayward thoughts of any dissertation--out of his Guide, repeating as necessary, until they fell asleep in each other's arms. 

* * *

* * *

End Love While We're Here by Jantique: Jantique1020@hotmail.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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